Abandonment
by SouthernChickie
Summary: Richie's mortal life is threatened one too many times. Duncan has to make a decision. NOW COMPLETE! Companion to University Love, but can stand on it's own
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimers: not mine.  
  
AN: This joins the ranks of "Tough Love" and "A Lesson Learned". It is a companion piece to University Love but can stand on it's own.  
  
ABANDONMENT  
  
The quickening had started a string of explosions in the old factory. The explosions had started a fire. Richie was somewhere inside. Duncan raced through the corridors, up the stairs, and down another hall screaming his name.  
  
"Richie! Richie!" He had assumed Richie had been hidden in the farthest corner possible, but Richie wasn't upstairs. "Richie!" He raced back down the stairs. "Richie!" The heat was becoming unbearable. The smoke was choking. "Richie!" He concentrated as hard as he could to get the faintest sign Richie was somewhere near. Feeling helpless and insufficient, Duncan pushed himself deeper into the heat. The only other possibility was Richie was somewhere near where the battle had been. "Richie!" There it was. the soft presence of a pre-immortal. Duncan searched for the source of the feeling and found a door at the far end of the room he had fought in.  
  
He threw it open. Richie was sitting bound to a chair and gagged. He was screaming and pulling at his bonds. His eyes were wild and frightened. He wasn't sure what was going on. All he knew was that smoke had been leaking into the room for at least five minutes and he had almost given up hope.  
  
"Richie!" Duncan yelled running to him. He used his katana to cut the rope and gag. He folded the cloth that had previously been used to keep Richie quiet and pressed it over the teen's mouth and nose. "Hold that there," he instructed, leading Richie out of the room.  
  
When they got to the fire, he leaned over Richie, trying to cover the boy as much as he could and used his body as a shield from any debris that may fall from over head. Half way across the room, a beam fell inches in front of them. Richie yelped as Duncan abruptly pulled him back. Not expecting the sudden change in direction, Richie tripped over his feet and fell backward taking Duncan down with him.  
  
"You okay?" Duncan asked, helping Richie back up. Richie nodded and coughed a few times.  
  
Duncan put the cloth back over his mouth and once again hunkered over him. They made their way through the fiery maze and out of the factory. Once they were a safe distance away, Richie collapsed onto the ground in a coughing fit. Duncan crouched next to him and covered him in his coat. The chilly January morning air was already beginning to cause the boy, who had been kidnapped out of his own bed while Duncan and Tessa were at a party, to shiver.  
  
"Let's get you home," Duncan whispered encouragingly, helping Richie up again. "You're going to get sick out here in your underwear."  
  
"You're the one that dragged me out of the nice warm building," Richie mumbled back. Duncan put a protective arm around Richie and took him to the car. He wrapped him with a blanket from the trunk before seating him in the front seat where the heat would hit him better.  
  
At a stoplight Duncan looked at Richie. He was covered in soot and there was blood on the left side of his face. Life had gotten too dangerous for Richie. This was the third time in two months he had been close to dying. Duncan had made a mistake taking Richie in. He should have found him a nice family to live with or a nice apartment. He could have paid the rent until Richie found a job and made enough money on his own. The current arrangement was a terrible idea.  
  
After properly pampering, feeding, and cleaning Richie, Duncan sent him to bed. Duncan sat Tessa on the couch and told her his idea.  
  
"No," she refused. "I will not do it!"  
  
"Tessa, it really is for the best. I don't want to do this anymore than you do, but I think we have to."  
  
"I have lived like this for twelve years. I have survived just fine. Richie will be fine as well."  
  
"Richie's the one who always gets hurt. He needs this more than you do."  
  
"He needs to be with us! Duncan, he will take this very personally," Tessa insisted. "He's ego is so fragile; this would destroy him."  
  
"What if I can make sure he understands?" Duncan offered. "Tessa, he could have been killed today."  
  
"But you saved him."  
  
"After he was taken from his own bed! Tessa, he's supposed to be safe here. This is home and he wasn't safe. If I can't protect him here, he needs to be somewhere else."  
  
"And he'll be safer with another immortal?"  
  
"Conner doesn't run into the problems we do here. Other immortals leave him alone. He keeps to himself. Richie will be safe there."  
  
"You think this is best?" Tessa asked after a minute.  
  
"Tessa, I don't want to risk either one of you. It's not fair. If I could keep you with me, I would. But I truly believe this is the best possible solution."  
  
"Then call Conner. If he agrees, so do I," Tessa said reluctantly.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Bye, Richie," Tessa gave him long strong hug at the terminal at the airport. "I love you. Always remember that."  
  
"I love you, too, Tess," he answered not quite sure where all the emotion was coming from. She was only going to be in Paris a couple weeks. "I'll get you something in New York," he told her. "Something real classy."  
  
"Oh!" She embraced him again. "You are such a sweet boy! I'll never forget you!"  
  
"I don't plan on forgetting you either, Tessa. It's only a few weeks."  
  
"Tess, your plane," Duncan gently reminded, giving her a hug. To Richie's surprise, she gave Duncan a stiff hug and returned to him, planting kisses all over his face.  
  
"Good bye, Richie."  
  
"Bye, Tess."  
  
She turned and walked to the plane. Duncan and Richie watched the plane taxi down the runway before leaving.  
  
"Did you guys have a fight?" Richie asked as they made their way through the parking lot.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"She just acted mad at you," he shrugged. "And then she acted like she was never going to see me again. What does she think you're gonna kidnap me while she's gone? Tie me up and leave me in New York or something?"  
  
"It's Tessa, she hates flying. She always gets dramatic when she has to go by herself," Duncan explained it away.  
  
"Why didn't you just go with her? I can take care of the store."  
  
"I had already promised you a trip to New York to see Conner. It's not as if anything is going to happen to her."  
  
Richie got in the car. "I would have understood. as long as you promised to come back and not ditch me," he added in an accusing tone, but his smile gave him away.  
  
"Don't you want to go?" Duncan asked, paying the parking lot attendant.  
  
"Hey, of course I do," Richie assured him. "I can add it to my list of places I've been mugged. Seacouver, Paris, Amsterdam, New York," he ticked them off on his fingers as he listed them. "I get around."  
  
"You got mugged when you went to Amsterdam?" Duncan asked. "I knew you weren't ready to go on your own."  
  
"Mac, come on I went with a whole group of people."  
  
"And you got mugged?"  
  
"Once."  
  
"And you didn't tell me or Tessa?" Richie hunkered down in his seat and looked out the window and didn't answer. Since Richie wasn't defending himself that meant only one thing, "You told Tessa," Duncan observed.  
  
"Don't get mad at her, I asked her not to tell you."  
  
"Why do you do that?" Duncan asked in slight exasperation.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Tell Tessa things and beg her not to tell me?"  
  
Richie shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"There has to be some reason," Duncan challenged.  
  
"Maybe because she doesn't do that," Richie suggested.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Demand answers. I talk to her when I feel like it."  
  
"It's easier to talk to her?" Duncan asked slightly hurt.  
  
"Face it Mac, you're, like, what? Four hundred years old."  
  
"So."  
  
"So, that's 382 years older than me. She can't be more than 33 or 34, she's mortal, and she has that whole maternal air about her. Not to mention, she was raised in the same time period as me, she understands the way I think, and she doesn't have four hundred years worth of experiences to fall back on. She understands that it's easy to get confused. That's just the way it is."  
  
"You have more in common."  
  
"Exactly," Richie agreed. "That's not to say I wouldn't much rather spend two weeks alone with you than her," he added. "Tessa's great at a lot of things. but she makes a lousy." he trailed off.  
  
"Makes a lousy what?" Duncan asked.  
  
"Um.Mac. She makes a really bad Mac. She's a Tessa. That's all," Richie finally answered. Duncan smiled and ruffled Richie's hair with one hand. Richie did his obligatory squirming but smiled just the same. "Both hands on the wheel, hypocrite."  
  
"What?" Duncan asked innocently.  
  
"You always yell at me when I let go."  
  
"So, what do you want to do in New York?" Duncan asked. 'I'm going to miss him,' Duncan thought as Richie chattered away in the passenger seat the rest of the way home. Even if it wasn't baseball season he waned to at least see Yankee Stadium. Madison Square Garden was a must along with Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, the Empire State Building and about a million other places. Richie also talked about how they could fit it all in, in two weeks without killing themselves (or at least him since he was the only mortal on the trip). Little did he know, he had as long as he wanted.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Two days later, Duncan and Richie were on a plane to New York to meet Conner. Richie, who had an unhealthy enthusiasm for flying, spent the entire trip looking out windows, wondering why certain things were happening, and chatting with the crew to get his answers. By the end of the flight, Duncan wondered how Richie still had enough energy left to be excited about being in New York. Conner met them at the gate. Richie's energy suddenly left him and, for the first time since Duncan had met him, he became shy. After all, the last time he had seen Conner, he had just come back from the dead after falling off a bridge.  
  
"Well, lad," Conner said putting an arm around Richie's shoulder and leading him to baggage claim. "I think you'll like it here."  
  
"Probably," Richie answered. "Mac'll have to drag me back on the plane to go home."  
  
Duncan shook his head slightly at Conner who gave him a disapproving look. Conner sent Richie to the luggage carousal to collect the bags so he could talk to Duncan.  
  
"I thought he was in too good of a mood," he scolded. "How could you not tell him?"  
  
"I'd never get him here if he knew he wasn't going home," Duncan defended.  
  
"Maybe because this is a bad idea."  
  
"If you think this is such a bad idea, why did you agree to it?"  
  
"Because I think being with me is better for him than being with a total stranger. Hopefully, Rachel will be able to help when he has a nervous break down," Conner retorted.  
  
"Do you think it's going to be that hard on him?"  
  
"I know it will."  
  
"This is Richie we're talking about, he'll bounce back. He'll understand."  
  
"If you're so sure he'll understand, why did you lie to get him here?"  
  
"Got 'em!" Richie announced before Duncan could answer. He struggled toward the two under the weight of their bags. "Don't look at me," he defended when Conner gave him a quizzical glance. "The small one is mine. Mac brought his whole wardrobe." He indicated the (much) larger of the two suitcases. Richie didn't know that both were filled with his clothing.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
When they got to Conner's apartment he showed them to the guestroom. Richie was surprised to see only one bed. Duncan had mentioned Conner only had one spare room so they would have to share. He didn't say anything about only one spare bed. Richie kept his mouth shut while Conner was in the room as well, but when Conner left so they could get ready for dinner, Richie glared at Duncan the entire time.  
  
"What?" Duncan finally asked.  
  
"I'm not sleeping with you," Richie told him.  
  
"Then don't."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means there's a couch if you have a problem with it," Duncan told him with a smile.  
  
Richie tried his best to look angry but after a minute he smiled. "I should have known."  
  
Dinner was at a nice mom and pop Italian diner. The three men enjoyed a nice leisurely meal. Conner told stories about Duncan and Duncan tried his best to be annoyed, but Richie's smile and laugh were contagious. This was going to be the last time he saw that smile or heard that laugh in a long time, if ever again. For dessert, Conner took them to the best ice cream cart in the city. They ate their ice cream as they walked around Times Square. Duncan was sure Richie was going to have a heart attack when he found where MTV's broadcast came from. Richie was finishing off the last of his cone when they got back to the apartment. They settled in the sunken living room where Conner told more stories, this time about Duncan's training.  
  
"He really wasn't that good?" Richie asked in disbelief.  
  
"How do you think he died in battle?" Conner asked with a grin.  
  
"I was the chieftain's son!" Duncan protested. "Don't listen to him, Richie, I was good."  
  
"Not according to your teacher," Richie chided. "I bet you were the type that forged report cards."  
  
"I never went to school," he reminded him.  
  
"Do your parents know that?!" Richie asked in shock.  
  
Conner laughed from his chair. "I see someone is quite the handful," he smiled. How Duncan could give up such a fun young man was beyond him. Sure he had heard stories of Richie's temper and stubbornness, but his charm far outweighed any of that.  
  
Despite his best efforts Richie started to yawn after an hour or so.  
  
"Looks like you're ready for bed," Duncan smiled.  
  
"I guess," Richie yawned back.  
  
"Go get changed, then get back out here," Duncan instructed, taking Richie by the arm and shoving him off the couch and swatting at his butt.  
  
"Maaac!" Richie groaned looking at Conner with an embarrassed grin. Over the course of the night he had come out of his shell.  
  
"Get going, tough guy," Duncan ordered.  
  
"You appear to be changing your mind," Conner observed once Richie was out of hearing range.  
  
"I have to, Conner," he replied defiantly. "But I want to give him something first. I hope you don't mind." He held up the intended gift. "I was going to give it to him when he died, but I want to give it to him now."  
  
Richie came back into the room in boxer pants and a t-shirt before Conner could reply, so he just nodded his consent.  
  
"Come here, Rich," Duncan said. Throwing a self-conscious look at Conner, Richie obeyed. "I want you to have this." He reached around Richie's neck and fastened the necklace chain in place. "Conner gave it to me a long time ago and now I'm giving it to you."  
  
Frowning in confusion, Richie looked down at the flattened piece of round metal that was hanging from the chain by the hole in the center. There was writing on both sides. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"It's for protection," Duncan explained feeling a lump rise in his throat. "That is a Gaelic blessing. It protects whoever owns the necklace. I want to make sure you're always protected."  
  
Richie looked back and forth between the two. "I don't get it," he admitted softly.  
  
"I want to make sure you'll be okay when I'm gone," Duncan told him.  
  
"Did you get challenged?" Richie asked. "Don't you think you can take this guy. maybe you need this." He reached to unfasten the chain.  
  
"No, Richie, I haven't been challenged," Duncan said. "I have to go."  
  
"Go where?"  
  
"Away."  
  
"I want to."  
  
"You can't come with me, Richie. Stay here with Conner." Tears were stinging at his eyes. It was almost harder to say good-bye to Richie than it had been to Tessa. At least she had had the decency to get mad, Riche just looked hurt.  
  
"Well, you're coming back, right?" he asked.  
  
"No, Richie. This is it."  
  
"But, Mac," Richie protested, eyes brimming with tears as well.  
  
"I'm sorry, Richie."  
  
"No," Richie whispered. "Please, Mac, don't," he begged as a tear slid down his cheek.  
  
"Oh, Richie!" Duncan pulled him into a fierce hug that Richie refused to let go of. "I know you don't like this. But it's what has to be done."  
  
"Mac, don't leave me," Richie continued. "Don't be like everyone else."  
  
"Richie, I love you," Duncan whispered as he forced him away.  
  
"Mac." Richie was openly crying now. Duncan had never seen him cry before. "Mac, please."  
  
"Hey, buck up, tough guy," Duncan whispered feeling his control over his tears lessening. "You'll be fine with Conner."  
  
"But I don't want to!"  
  
"I know you don't, I don't either."  
  
"Then why are you doing this!?" he demanded.  
  
"Because it has to be done. I'm sorry, Richie."  
  
"No, you're not!" Richie insisted. "You don't care! You just want to get rid of me!"  
  
"No! Richie, that's not true!" Duncan told him sternly. Even if Richie was acting mad, Duncan could tell it was out of rejection and fear.  
  
"The hell it isn't!" Richie screamed back, his voice tight. "You lied to me! This whole time, you've been lying!"  
  
"Richie, don't believe that. It's not true. I lied to get you here, but everything else was the truth. I care about you; I want you to be safe. That's why I brought you here. You have to believe me, Richie, I love you."  
  
"Then don't leave, please." Richie abandoned his anger and went back to being hurt.  
  
"I have to, tough guy." Duncan pulled him into a final hug. "Take care of yourself. And listen to Conner. And don't do anything stupid."  
  
"Please," Richie tried one last time.  
  
Duncan kept a hand on Richie's shoulder as he looked at his kinsman. "Take care of him."  
  
"I will," he promised replacing Duncan's hand with his own on Richie's shoulder.  
  
Duncan cuffed Richie in the chin, looked at him one last time, and left.  
  
"Mac!" Richie started after him, but Conner held him back. "Mac! LET ME GO!!" he screamed fighting Conner's grip.  
  
"Come here, lad," Conner said softly, turning Richie around to face him. "Let him go, be strong," he coached.  
  
"I don't want to," Richie told him stubbornly. "I want him to come back."  
  
"But he's not. You're nearly a man now, you can handle this."  
  
"No," Richie whimpered. "Why?" he asked after a pause.  
  
"Because he loves you," Conner told him as he embraced him. "You'll be okay. Let it out."  
  
"Leave me alone," Richie mumbled pulling away and retreating to what he figured had become his room.  
  
He collapsed on the bed; tears spent, and stared at the ceiling. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around the small pendant on his necklace. A few minutes later he fell asleep. 


	2. a big change

Richie stayed in his room with the lights out for a week. The only reason Conner knew he there was the missing dinner plate and fresh baked cookies every morning. Every evening Conner tried to get Richie to join him for dinner. Every evening Richie refused the invitation by simply rolling over to put his back to Conner. But every evening, he was facing the door when he came in, which Conner took as a good sign. Richie only came out of his room when he thought Conner was asleep. Every night, Conner would listen until he heard Richie in the kitchen getting the dinner Conner had made to truly go to sleep. Richie always ate everything left for him and cleaned up his plate; the only difference was the plate of cookies left on the counter.  
  
By the time the second week rolled around, Richie added eerily depressing music to his routine. His depression never lifted, not even for a minute. He never spoke to, interacted with, or even looked at Conner. He started loosing weight and getting pale.  
  
By the third week, Conner was seriously worried about Richie and called Duncan.  
  
"What's wrong?" Duncan demanded as soon as Conner identified himself on the phone  
  
"Your lad," Conner told him.  
  
"Is he hurt?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What happened to him?"  
  
"You left him. Your boy is seriously depressed. He's making himself sick."  
  
"He's not eating?" Duncan asked, already knowing the answer. He had been through enough hard spots with the boy to know what he did when he was upset.  
  
"Barely. Duncan, I can't reach him. He needs you."  
  
"I can't protect him."  
  
"And I can't protect him if he doesn't trust me," Conner countered. "He sees me as the enemy. The one that helped you with your evil plan. Duncan, at least let me give him the letters."  
  
"How many has she sent?" Duncan asked. He knew Tessa wanted to explain it all the Richie, but he thought a clean break would be easier for him to handle.  
  
"I have a whole stack of them."  
  
"I still don't think that's a good idea, Conner. The less he has to cling to the better."  
  
"He clings to the necklace; he's holding it every time I check on him."  
  
"Conner, I."  
  
"Duncan, listen to me. You've broken that boy's.Richie!" Conner turned and found a pale blonde teen standing not ten feet away from him. "Richie, can I get you."  
  
"Is that Mac?" Richie interrupted.  
  
"I just."  
  
"I want to talk to him," he continued. "Can I have the phone?" Knowing Duncan would not like it, Conner handed the phone over. "Mac?" Richie asked. There was a slight pause; Duncan wasn't sure what to do. "Fine, don't talk to me. I don't care. I wanna talk to Tessa."  
  
"She's not here," Duncan told him, trying to hide the emotion in his voice.  
  
"I know she is," Richie insisted. "I'm not stupid. You might leave me, but you would never leave her."  
  
"She's in Paris, Richie," Duncan said, his sorrow evident.  
  
"Aren't you?" he asked, becoming unsure of his assumptions.  
  
"No," barely came out as a whisper.  
  
"Oh. fine." Richie handed the phone to Conner and went back to his room.  
  
A week and a half later Conner had had enough. One nice and sunny afternoon, he went into Richie's room. "I know where Tessa is," he informed him.  
  
"You do?" Richie asked, instantly perking up.  
  
"I have her number."  
  
"Can I call her?" Richie begged.  
  
"Yes. if."  
  
"If what?"  
  
"You go outside," Conner told him. " If you go out for three hours or longer, explore, get some fresh air, look for things you want to do, and have dinner with me. then you can call her."  
  
"That's not fair," Richie told him.  
  
"How is it not fair? You do something for me, I do something for you."  
  
"You want to get rid of me?" Richie asked.  
  
"No, I need you to pick some stuff up for me," Conner told him. He had come up with a backup reason if Richie challenged the idea. "And I want your help with dinner, too. You're a great cook, but I'm getting sick of cookies."  
  
"It's the only thing I know how to make," he shrugged.  
  
"Then I'll get you a cookbook. Or you can pick one out while you're out. What do you say?"  
  
Richie eyed him suspiciously. "You promise I can call her?"  
  
"For as long as you want."  
  
He sighed. "Fine. I'll go."  
  
After a quick shower, Richie got a list and set of keys from Conner. Then, he set out to explore New York City. He had a short list of things to buy while he was out and three hours to kill. He picked a direction and walked. The more he walked the more things he found. He made a mental list of what he saw so he could tell Tessa before he begged to go live with her. He found David Letterman's studio, the Soup Nazi Kitchen from Seinfeld, a lot of Broadway shows, where they drop the ball on New Years, and he found MTV again. As he wondered around the streets someone shoved a flyer into his hand.  
  
'Shooter's Night Club gives you the rave of the millenium!' he read to himself. 'Free drinks to all that come. Meet the girl of your dreams and make them all come true. Friday January 28 midnight.'  
  
He rolled his eyes and crammed the flyer in his pocket. He used to go to those. too bad he couldn't remember if they were any fun. Richie looked at his watch and discovered that he had only an hour and a half left. He pulled the list out from his pocket and made his way to the various stores. He made his purchases and still had time to look through a bookstore to select a cookbook.  
  
"Back already?" Conner asked, when Richie walked into the apartment.  
  
"Three hours and five minutes, see?" Richie shoved his watch under Conner's nose.  
  
"I see," he smiled. "Did you get everything?"  
  
"Yup." Richie held up the bags. The promise of talking to Tessa had lifted him from his funk.  
  
"Good. Why don't you help me make dinner?" Conner got up and went to the kitchen.  
  
"I can't cook," Richie told him, following him shyly.  
  
"I know. Did you pick out a book?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then tomorrow morning, you can pick out some stuff you want to try to make and we'll go get the stuff you need. Then I'll really teach you," Conner promised. "For now, you can help."  
  
Conner set Richie to work chopping and stirring and tasting. When dinner was ready, Richie set the table. Together they sat, for the first time, just the two of them, to a dinner of homemade stew and fresh baked bread. Uplifted by what was to come in his very near future, Richie ate everything Conner didn't. He would answer questions but never engaged in conversation. Conner took this as a good sign. Once the dishes were done, Conner picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
"Tessa?" he said after a minute. "It's Conner." Richie stood directly in front of him, ready to grab the phone the first chance he got. "I'm fine, and you?" The polite conversation continued until Richie had started up an impatient 'give me the phone dance,' reaching for the phone, then stepping away, circling the island, stopping in front of Conner tapping his foot then he'd reach for the phone and start all over again. Finally Conner had been amused for long enough. "Somebody here wants to talk to you," he told Tessa giving the phone to Richie.  
  
"Tess?" he nearly screamed.  
  
"Richie?" she answered just as excitedly on the other end. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm okay," he answered automatically. "A little cold," he added.  
  
"Put on a sweater," she told him with a smile in her voice. "Are you having fun?"  
  
"Not really," he admitted. "But hey, I saw where they're running Phantom of the Opera. Isn't that the CD you always like to listen to?"  
  
"Yes. Are you going to see it? I'm sure Conner will take you if you ask."  
  
"I'd rather go with you," he hinted.  
  
"We can't, Richie. Duncan says this is for the best."  
  
"Who cares? He's gone," Richie insisted. "That means you and me don't have to go through with this."  
  
"You and I," Tessa corrected him. "Just give it some time. Once you're used to it, maybe we can visit."  
  
"Tessa, that's not fair!"  
  
"Let's just try it Duncan's way."  
  
"Why does it always have to be his way?" Richie demanded.  
  
"Just at first. Do you really hate it that much?"  
  
"Tessa, I hate it here," Richie said sincerely. "It's not that Conner is bad. he's just not you. This isn't home."  
  
"It is now, Richie. Just give it time; soon it will feel like home."  
  
"I miss you, Tessa," Richie said switching tactics. "Conner wants to teach me to cook. You're supposed to do that."  
  
"You will learn. When you get a really good recipe, you can make me something."  
  
"How am I supposed to do that with you half way around the world with no intentions of ever coming back?" he asked, in pouting mode.  
  
"This isn't for forever, petite," Tessa assured him.  
  
"Yeah, it's just until you can forget," he grumbled.  
  
"Forget what? You? Richie, I will never forget you. And we will see each other again."  
  
"Tessa, Mac is gone, okay?" Richie told her impatiently. "Gone. He left us. Why do you still do what he says?"  
  
"Because he knows what he's talking about. I know you don't understand, but you will. Given time."  
  
"Time? You think I'll be okay given time to accept that my two best friends want nothing to do with me? You think time will make me feel okay about this?"  
  
"Richie, that's not."  
  
"Well, you're wrong," he continued ignoring her. "But, you know what? Fine."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Fine. Go ahead. Leave. Forget. Move on. Have fun."  
  
"Richie!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"How could you think that's what I meant?"  
  
"How could I not?" he returned, hanging up the phone before she could answer. He stormed past Conner and into his room without a word.  
  
"That went well," Conner mumbled.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie stared up at the ceiling. His depressing music was on again and the lights were off. He rolled onto his side and something crinkled in his pocket. He turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the flyer. An idea began to form in his head. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV across the room. It took some scrolling but he found what he was looking for, the TV Guide channel. According to the TV it was January 28, 11:36 p.m. Resolutely telling himself it was for the best, he picked up his keys and put on his shoes.  
  
"Where are you going?" Conner asked in slight surprise as Richie crossed the living room.  
  
"Out. There's some concert tonight," Richie lied.  
  
"Okay," Conner answered to Richie's surprise. "Don't be out too late."  
  
"I'll be back," Richie assured him. He mused to himself how easy it had been. Conner didn't even look at the clock, just let him walk right out the door.  
  
After some searching, Richie found the Shooter's club. No ID was required to get in. Once inside, Richie realized this was one of those traveling clubs that set up in abandoned buildings. He also realized where it had gotten its name. He went to a keg and filled a glass. He was determined to enjoy himself. He didn't have anyone to answer to anymore. Duncan and Tessa were gone and Conner didn't seem to care much. He quickly found himself a girl and proceeded to escape reality for a while.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Conner had been slightly surprised when Richie had decided to go out. He had heard the conversation he had had with Tessa and had assumed they were back at square one. On the contrary, Richie became amazingly personable after his all night outing. He slept late the next morning and took a while to wake up after he actually got up, but he was talkative and friendly. By all accounts, he was forcing himself to put Duncan and Tessa behind him. Conner didn't question it; if Duncan was so sure of it and Richie was going along with it, it would work out.  
  
Richie surprised Conner again when he announced he had a date the next night. Conner watched in slight confusion, as Richie seemed to go through all his clothes to pick out the worst things he had. He settled on a pair of torn black jeans and a black T-shirt with a horribly ugly design on it that had to be a left over from his days before Duncan and Tessa. He put on his black and green racing jacket and left with a smile on his face. He repeated the process four more times that week.  
  
Starting the next week, Richie began to change. At first it was little things; a hair cut, new accessories he only wore on dates, leather pants that Conner had yet to figure out how Richie got into to, and a pair of heavy military boots. Since Richie was changing his look, Conner gave him the ATM card to the bank account Duncan had set up for him. He had promised that as long as he lived, he would provide for Richie through the account; he would make regular deposits to make sure Richie always had money.  
  
With the card in hand, Richie went to the phone to call his new girl friend Cleo. All Conner heard was Richie announcing he had found some money and was ready to go shopping. The Richie that left that morning was not the Richie that returned.  
  
The Richie that left had been in jeans, a T-shirt and his new boots. The Richie that came back was completely unrecognizable. His short hair had been died pitch black and had a few streaks of blue among the spikes that took the place of his natural curls. Conner counted five piercings; he had a cuff on his ear, a ring in his eyebrow, a stud just under his lip and a silver chain that hung from his left ear to his left nostril. He had a spiked leather dog collar around his neck with matching cuffs around his wrists. A mesh shirt, another impossibly tight pair of leather pants, and a floor length leather coat made up his new ensemble.  
  
"Richie?" Conner sputtered.  
  
"Sup?" Richie replied dropping the bags he was holding.  
  
"Is that you?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, this," Richie gestured to himself. "What don't you like it?"  
  
"It's a bit of a shock."  
  
Richie gave him an amused grin. "It's cool. Not like I was 'specting you to applaud or nothin'," Richie answered. The nearly undetectable Washington accent was gone replaced by a shockingly realistic Bronx accent instead. "But trust me, man, you'll get used to it." He patted Conner's chest with another amused smile.  
  
"You painted your nails?" Conner asked taking Richie's hand and looking at the black fingernails.  
  
"It seemed to be the right thing to do," he shrugged.  
  
"Look, dinner will be ready in half an hour. Go put your things away and set the table," Conner told him, expecting a confrontation.  
  
"Sure. Need me to do anything else?" Richie asked in all sincerity, picking his bags back up.  
  
"You could tear up a salad."  
  
"Cool."  
  
As Richie walked past, Conner dared a peek into the bags. Everything inside them was black. 


	3. Richie's bad move

AN: Who's the bestest beta in the world? LORI!!!!! She was my total life saver for this chap and was cool enough to co-author it with me. Many hugs to Lori for being such a sport and being sooooo supportive. Thanks a million, girl!  
  
Richie slid his hand in Cleo's back pocket as they walked down the street to the party. He had been told the party was going to be 'tight' whatever that meant. All he knew was when he got there he was going to be known as 'Leo'. That had become his new name. His friends decided that 'Richie' didn't fit with the new look. and he had to agree. When he looked in the mirror he didn't see a Richie. Richie had blonde hair and an innocent look. Leo was a Goth. When they were coming up with new names he had almost suggested "Mac," but if they called looking for him and Conner answered there would be a lot of explaining to do. So he broke the name down. Mac Leod. 'Leod sounded stupid. Leo on the other hand, that worked. Once they settled on a new name, Riche only existed to Conner.  
  
Cleo and Richie attracted a lot of attention on the street. Between his piercing and newly acquired henna tattoos (a katana surrounded by blue lightning on his left bicep, a Celtic cross on his right forearm, and the Celtic infinity knot just above his pants were all clearly visible through strategically placed rips and tears despite the February wind) and Cleo's purple hair and chainmail bikini top and mini skirt, they were quite a sight to see as they made their way past street venders and bums. Richie had a pocket full of cash and a want to use Duncan as much as he could. It was his revenge. If Duncan wanted to send him away and still support him, it was fine with Richie. He would take all he could get.  
  
"Here." Cleo dragged Richie to the left down a dark alley. Richie paid the doorman the $100 per person charge to get in. In less than five minutes, Cleo and Richie were settled on a couch together with all the pot and beer they wanted. Bongs were set up in one corner and plates of marijuana brownies and snacks were scattered about. Within minutes Richie was very calm, very relaxed, and very proud of himself.  
  
Buzzbi, the leader of the gang Cleo belonged to and new friend of Richie's, talked for hours on end about what job they were going to pull next. The gang covered an area of five square blocks and they wanted to expand. They were going to rob a rival gang leader's house to get his attention and then take the whole gang down. It would double their territory. Buzzbi also gushed about how much fun Richie was going to have helping them.  
  
"You know, Leo," he said putting a hand on Richie's shoulder. "If you really did all that junk you said you did, you're really going places with us."  
  
At four the next morning, Richie snuck into the apartment. He collapsed face first on his bed and fell into a deep sleep. He didn't wake up until two that afternoon. While with nearly anyone, Richie would cop an attitude, Conner was a different story. With Conner he was his usual, cheerful, mostly polite, agreeable self. It seemed to Richie that as long as he never let on about changing anything but his appearance Conner would let him do as he pleased.  
  
That night at dinner, Conner reminded Richie that he would be gone for the weekend.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" Conner asked. "You're more than welcome."  
  
"No, I think I'll chill here," Richie said. "Would it be okay if I had a few friends over?"  
  
"Just so long as you don't do anything illegal, go right ahead."  
  
"Dually noted." It was a non-committal response in case Richie couldn't hold up his end of the bargain. Which he probably couldn't. He wasn't sure what was going to be going on. Well, not specifically. He knew he was going to be initiated into Cleo's gang. He hadn't been told what was going to happen.  
  
"Suit yourself," Conner shrugged. Saturday morning Conner walked Richie through the house and made sure he knew where the phone numbers and guns were. "Don't play with them. but just in case," he told him. He also left him pizza money. "I'll be back Monday evening. I'll see you then. Call me if you need anything."  
  
Richie set to work as soon as the taxi pulled away. He gathered up all the guns and locked them in the safe along with anything expensive and breakable looking. He did his best to remember where everything went.  
  
At ten Saturday night, Cleo came over. She looked around the apartment with a look Richie couldn't quite figure out. They made out on the couch and had just started to move on to something more serious when Buzzbi showed up with beer.  
  
"You'll need it, kid," he assured Richie handing him one.  
  
A few minutes after that, six others showed up. One was carrying a very ominous looking bag. Richie figured whatever was in it had to do with the initiation. At least nothing in it was moving. At midnight Buzzbi decided it was time for Richie to officially join the gang.  
  
"Tank, get him ready," he instructed. "Oh, Leo, take of your shirt first... shoes and socks, too."  
  
Richie did as he was told.  
  
The guy with the bag stepped forward and looked Richie in the eye. "Fun times." Something in his tone sent chills down Richie's back. Tank reached into his bag a pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He secured them around Richie's wrists, keeping his hands in the front. He then retrieved what looked like a large pair of handcuffs and secured them around Richie's ankles.  
  
"What's going on?" Richie asked.  
  
"You want to be part of us, don't you?" Cleo asked. "You belong with us. It will be over in a few minutes."  
  
"I just want to know what's going to happen."  
  
"Kneel and find out," Buzzbi told him. When Richie didn't move Tank and another guy pushed him to his knees. "It will just take a minute." Someone gagged Richie as Buzzbi was handed the bag. He reached in and pulled out a bullwhip. "Here we go."  
  
He walked behind Richie and cracked the whip a few times. Richie jumped each time. He began to struggle to his feet when the whip bit into the flesh of his back. Richie yelled into the gag. He was hit repeatedly until he felt blood dripping onto his feet. He had decided six whips ago he decided he didn't want to do this anymore. Unfortunately, everyone was cheering and laughing so loud, they couldn't hear his muffled protests. The whip cracked and a new inch of flesh seared with pain and a new cry issued from Richie's mouth. Objects began swimming in front of him and Richie fought the urge to pass out. He felt someone lift him to his feet and remove the gag.  
  
"Hope you had as much fun as we did," Buzzbi smiled, patting his cheek.  
  
"Bastard," Richie mumbled as forcibly as he could.  
  
Buzzbi just smiled. "Cleo, you tell him the score."  
  
Cleo appeared in front of him. "We'll call the police and leave an anonymous tip that you're here. They'll take care of you. The deal is you don't tell them who did this. Then when you get out of the hospital, you're in. If you blab. we kill you. Simple as that."  
  
Richie was panting with the effort to stay upright and focus on the people in front of him. "What?"  
  
"That's the deal. We need to know we can trust you. So be a good boy and stay quiet, okay?" she asked as if the death threat was entirely normal.  
  
"Uggghhhh." Richie moaned, feeling his knees give. He crashed to the floor, awkwardly tying to catch himself with his cuffed hands. He passed out before he could feel the pain of a bone breaking in his arm.  
  
Richie knew nothing until he felt himself being gently shaken. He moaned and the voices that were surrounding him became louder and more forceful. "Sir, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes for me. Sir?" Richie tried to force his eyes open but only managed a crack. "That's it, a little more. Do you know where you are, sir? What's your name?"  
  
Richie groaned. All he could manage to get out through his dry throat was a croak. The second time he had more luck. "Rich-ie." He stumbled halfway through his name, voice cracking in protest. "I'm at Conner's."  
  
"That's good. You'll be alright. We have to move you now. I'm going to count to three and then you'll feel me and my teammates left you up and put you on a stretcher. We won't drop you. Promise." The young EMT grinned at the young man in front of him, hoping to distract him long enough that they could transfer him to the stretcher without giving him too much extra pain. "Now, on one, two.Three!"  
  
Richie felt himself being lifted by several hands and being placed on a long, flat surface that was significantly higher than the floor. He let out a few grunts of pain and one loud moan as several injured parts of his body hit the board. He was placed on his side only to roll over onto his back. When his shredded back hit the stretcher, Richie mercifully blacked out. He didn't come to until he after he had made the bumpy journey down to the ambulance from the apartment. They were just closing the doors when he became aware. Richie started struggling, fighting against the restraints that kept him from falling off the rolling table.  
  
Gentle hands stopped him from hurting himself in the futile attempt to escape his bonds. "Easy, easy there. You're fine. You're en route to St. Mary's Hospital. We'll be there in just a few minutes. Okay?"  
  
Richie was too out of it to truly understand more than the gentle tone of voice the medic was using. He stopped fighting against the ties and once again fell into the merciful blackness. He could feel every lash and cut that had been made tonight and he knew that he would be in serious pain for a long time to come. He gave in quickly, welcoming the pain free void that awaited him.  
  
While Richie slept the ride away, the paramedics examined him, trying to stop the blood from escaping his body. Even the inexperienced workers knew that Richie had been seriously injured-most likely whipped-and would have a long, painful recovery ahead of him. He was in danger of bleeding out to rapidly and succumbing to the blood loss and if he did survive, would live with the scars for the rest of his life. Neither of the paramedics that rode in the back of the ambulance that night could understand why someone would cuff another person and proceed to beat them until almost dead. It was fortunate for this young man that one of his attackers had a guilty conscience and had called when they did. If they had waited any longer, the patient would most certainly have died.  
  
Almost before they had finished these thoughts, the ambulance arrived at the emergency room entrance. Pulling open the doors, several doctors, nurses and orderlies surrounded the vehicle's door, "What do we have here?" asked the doctor on duty.  
  
"Young male. Approximately 18 years old. Found in his apartment, cuffed and bleeding. Appears to be lacerations on 90 percent of his body. Unconscious when we arrived, woke up briefly twice, knew his name-Richie." The medic quickly filled the ER doctor in on Richie's vitals. During this recitation, Richie had been pushed in an evaluation room where calls for blood work, x-rays and other various tasks were called for. Finally the man had filled the doctor in on everything and then stopped following the group as he received his acknowledgement. He stood watching the scene for a few minutes, then walked back to his ride. He was still on duty and had others to save. His dismissal of the patient didn't stop him from hoping this patient got better soon; it just helped him realize that he had done his best and it was time for him to move on that night.  
  
Richie was quickly examined and found to be, in lay man's terms, one massive bruise with deep cuts cover most of his body. They wouldn't need to operate on him, but had to quickly sew up the lacerations before he lost too much blood. He had already lost too much and they could only give him so much at a time. Slowly, but steadily, Richie's vitals rose from the dangerously low points they had been at when he arrived.  
  
Everybody breathed a sigh of relief. He would make it. He would be in pain and still in the danger zone, but unless he had a relapse, he would live. The doctor ordered Richie to be placed in ICU. He still needed to be carefully watched until the threat of infection had passed. They were pumping him full of antibiotics, but had to be careful as his medical history was unknown. They wanted to make sure he wouldn't react adversely to the penicillin before fully trusting this treatment.  
  
After a watchful period of time, Richie was declared not allergic to the medicine and was pumped full. They should be able to keep a full blown infection away. Richie was made comfortable and then left to heal undisturbed for a few hours.  
  
He would remain unaware of the world around him, missing Rachel's frantic visit. Rachel had gone to check on Richie Sunday morning as Conner had requested. What she found when she opened the apartment doors was a pool of blood in the middle of the floor. She called all the hospitals looking for anyone matching Richie's description; she finally found him on her third call. She rushed to St. Mary's claiming to be Richie's aunt. She was escorted to his room when she preformed her own exam. He was on his left side with his back to the door. His right arm was covered in a thick, white cast , his left wrist was wrapped in gaze, as were both his ankles, and when the nurse untied the back of Richie's hospital gown all Rachel could do was keep herself for becoming hysteric. After being told it was after visiting hours, she left to call Conner, Duncan, and Tessa; they all promised to be there as soon as possible.  
  
Conner was the first to arrive home. After talking to Rachel, they both went to see Richie. Conner was furious when he got a good look at Richie. It was going to take a lot of work to fix his body. Plastic surgery was definitely in Richie's future. Since he was listed as Richie guardian and Richie was listed as a minor (Rachel said he was seventeen), he was asked to make a list of who was permitted to visit. The list was short; his Aunt Rachel and his sister, Tessa.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Duncan was the next to arrive and when he got to the hospital he received a big surprise. Apparently there was some confusion as to who Richie's guardian was. Duncan started to pace in the waiting room, suddenly the presence of another immortal interrupted his train of thought. Duncan stopped pacing and looked to the door in time to see Conner come in.  
  
"You're here," Conner greeted. "I wasn't sure if you'd come."  
  
"Of course I came!" Duncan shot back. "When I heard he was in the hospital, I got here as soon as I could."  
  
"What makes you think I'm going to let you see him?"  
  
Duncan looked shocked. "Why wouldn't you let me see him?"  
  
"Because you'll just get his hopes up and then I'd have to start all over."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It took me three weeks to get him out of his room," Conner told him. "I'm not going through that again. Send a card. 'Best wishes, get better soon, too busy to come'."  
  
"Conner! I would never do that! I'll always be here for Richie, no matter what!"  
  
"Really?" Conner raised his eyebrows. "Where were you when this happened to him?"  
  
"Where were you?" Duncan replied just as smugly.  
  
"I gave him the option of coming with me... Unlike with you; he was the one who decided to stay."  
  
"I want to see him, Conner," he insisted  
  
"I want to protect him... just like I promised you I would."  
  
"You didn't do a very good job, Conner."  
  
"I can't watch him 24 hours a day."  
  
"No, you can't watch him 24 hours a day," Duncan sighed. "But how could this have happened to the boy? Rachel said he was found in the apartment and that some girl had called 911. Someone he knew must have done this to him...who has he been seeing?"  
  
"Friends... reasonably nice kids. He has a girlfriend and they go out a lot."  
  
"If they're such nice kids, then how did this happen? It sounds like he knew someone that was involved."  
  
"What? How do you know that, Duncan?"  
  
"Rachel found your things in your safe. Richie must have put them there for safe keeping before this happened."  
  
"I know he had friends over the other night."  
  
"While you were gone?" Duncan asked. "Who was there to watch him?"  
  
"He's 18! And like he was never alone with you."  
  
"We never allowed him to have friends over without us there, save a select few that we knew well. I never had cause to doubt that he disobeyed the rules, either. And he certainly never ended up in the hospital while we were gone!"  
  
"Things happen," Conner shrugged. "It was all harmless enough. The only thing he changed was his appearance."  
  
"His appearance?" Duncan blinked. "What happened?"  
  
"He's fine."  
  
"Fine?" Duncan's voice rose with disbelief. "He's in the hospital! How do you know his new friends didn't put him here?"  
  
"He'll tell us what happened when he wakes up."  
  
"Wakes up? He's not conscious? My god, how hurt is he?"  
  
"They just gave him something to relax him. He's just a little banged up."  
  
"Banged up? How banged up? Nobody would tell me anything! Conner, what happened to him?"  
  
"A broken arm and some.... cuts. I'll admit he will be worse for the wear, but it's nothing that isn't fixable."  
  
"Fixable." Duncan repeated, voice flat.  
  
"Yeah, fixable. Now why don't you go home and let me take of the boy."  
  
Duncan looked at Conner. "You're really not going to let me see him, are you?"  
  
"No. Like I said, I don't want to have to fix him after he realizes that you aren't going to take him home again. I won't do that to the boy, Duncan. He's still hurt; this is his way of moving on with his life."  
  
"He won't have a life to move onto if you let him keep this up!"  
  
"He was doing fine!" Conner defended. "We don't even know what happened yet. How do we know that this wasn't some random break in that had nothing to do with either his friends or immortals!?"  
  
"Yeah, that's it... he hears someone break in and his first reaction is to hide all the guns and valuables in the safe," Duncan answered sarcastically.  
  
"Fine, so that's not very likely. But what do you want me to do, Duncan? You can't have it both ways! You're in the boy's life for good--he goes back with you or he stays here and you don't come back, ever. He'll never get over losing you if you keep on giving him hope. Unless you decide that he's going to go back to Seacouver with you, you aren't getting in to see him. So just go. Don't come back unless you're here for good. I'll call you with updates and let you know how he's doing. Until you decide for sure... you stay away from him."  
  
"Conner!"  
  
"Maybe it was a mistake trusting him to you in the first place. I should have brought him home with me."  
  
"What! How can you say that?" Duncan sputtered. "I love Richie!"  
  
"Really? You sure aren't showing it..."  
  
"Yes, I love Rich!"  
  
"Then you have to decide how much you love him. Enough to leave him with me, or enough to work this out the way that is best for him."  
  
"Best for him? It's best for him that he's not around me; I just get him hurt." Duncan stopped talking, and took a minute to think. "Maybe bringing him to you wasn't such a good idea either. Maybe there's a non- immortal that I could send the boy to. Maybe it's immortality that attacks trouble to him..."  
  
"Duncan, he was brought to your store that night for a reason. If he's not with you, he'll be with me. That's all there is to it."  
  
"But being with us could get him killed! He's too young to join the game!"  
  
"He could get killed anywhere. And when that happens he needs someone to go to. I taught you and I'll teach him... hopefully I can teach him the meaning of family. Apparently that lesson was lost on you."  
  
"Conner, that's not fair! He's too young to get exposed to this life we have to live. He'll always be family but I won't have him killed at 18 because of me. I want him to have a chance!"  
  
"A chance where? On the street? What if he falls in with another immortal? He can't tell the difference."  
  
Duncan sighed. "I just want him to be safe."  
  
Conner looked at his watch. "I don't have time for you now. I have a hurt boy to look after. So I'll tell you this Duncan MacLeod. Make your decision. Either you see him and take him with you... or you leave and never come back. Whatever choice you make is final. And from here on out... I decide who he can see." Conner didn't wait for Duncan's answer; instead he walked to Richie's room. Duncan stared at Conner's retreating back, stunned at his ultimatum. Tessa would not be pleased. 


	4. Hospital

Duncan paced the floor of his hotel room. He had to get in to see Richie. All he wanted to know was what had happened. Just give the boy a good once over then. leave. He had to remind himself that this wasn't a permanent situation. Richie was safer away from him. This attack didn't have anything to do with immortals. Richie would be fine. Conner could handle him. Conner was his best bet. Darius wasn't that bad of a choice, but Richie wouldn't stay for more than a few hours before heading out on his own. At least he was willing to stay put with Conner. Yeah, leaving Richie with Conner was the best idea. But, he still had to see Richie before he left town again.  
  
Duncan was still pacing an hour later when there was a knock on his room door. He looked through the peephole and threw the door open.  
  
"Tessa!" He pulled her into a strong hug before she could respond. "I missed you so much!"  
  
"I missed you, too. How is he?" she asked as they pulled away. Duncan didn't respond, but opted to tip the bellboy instead. "Duncan, what's wrong? Is he hurt badly?"  
  
"I don't know," Duncan admitted. "Conner won't let us see him."  
  
"What!?" Tessa was outraged. "Why in the world not?"  
  
"He doesn't want to get Richie's hopes up."  
  
"Duncan, that's not fair! We have every right to see him!"  
  
"There's nothing I can do, Tess. When Conner sets his mind to something, he does it. He even went so far to have Richie listed as a minor. He's his guardian; he doesn't have to let anyone in."  
  
"We'll just see about that. Which hospital?" She gathered up her purse once more.  
  
"St. Mary's. Tessa, you're not going to convince him."  
  
"Yes, I will."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
"Conner MacLeod!" Tessa yelled as soon as Conner opened the apartment door. "How dare you tell me I cannot see Richie?!" She stormed in without waiting for an invitation. There was an older woman sitting on the couch in the sunken living room. "You must be Rachel," Tessa said pleasantly. "I'm Tessa Noel." They shook hands and smiled.  
  
"Tessa, I can explain," Conner said coming into the living room behind her.  
  
Tessa's pleasant expression faded as she turned back to Conner. "You'd better! I will not have one more MacLeod telling me I have to leave that boy! Especially now that he is hurt!"  
  
"Tessa," he said calmly. "I never said you couldn't see Richie. As a matter of fact, you are on the allowed visitors list as his sister."  
  
"I have every right to. His sister?" Tessa stopped mid-yell when what Conner had said sunk in.  
  
"Yes, Rachel is his Aunt, and I am his Uncle. He's also seventeen."  
  
"Does Richie know you changed his age?"  
  
"He wasn't very happy at first," Rachel smiled. "But once we explained it meant Conner got to control who got in, he was okay with it." Tessa smiled as well. "He really is a very nice boy. a little on the unique side, but very sweet."  
  
"What do you mean unique?" Tessa asked. "He seemed pretty normal to me."  
  
"The hair, the make-up, the earrings, the tattoos. it all seems so out of place on him," Rachel explained.  
  
"Conner." Tessa turned to face him once again. "What is she talking about?"  
  
"It'd be easier to show you," Conner admitted. "Richie should be asleep right now, but it's better if he doesn't see your reaction."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
After going through a quick check point to identify themselves, Conner lead Tessa to Richie's private room. Richie was asleep with his back to the door, lying on his left side.  
  
"What happened?" Tessa whispered, taking a seat next to Richie's bed. His face looked more pale than usual against the dark hair.  
  
"He was whipped," Conner explained. "Someone cuffed him and whipped him, then called the police. He has a broken arm and around six hundred stitches. The doctors are sure he'll be fine."  
  
"Just scarred," Tessa added. "He'll never take his shirt off. He's so self-conscious as it is. he'll think he's a freak."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Tessa," Rachel said putting a comforting arm around her. "All it takes is a few hours of surgery and no one will be able to tell this happened."  
  
"What about this?" she asked gently fingering the white bandage around Richie's left wrist.  
  
"A minor cut and some bruises. He fought whoever did this," Conner told her. "He'll be fine. I'll make sure of that. He'll get the best care money can buy until all the physical and emotional damage is minimal."  
  
"Emotional?"  
  
"He didn't think I was going to take care of him. He cries when he is alone. He has nightmares if they don't drug him. He won't talk about what happened. He's still depressed about being here despite his best efforts not to be," Conner listed off. "He's one troubled kid. But I'll take care of him until it's all over. I have the time, I have the money, and I have the patience."  
  
"I'll take care of him," Tessa corrected holding back tears. "I'm not leaving him ever again." She reached out and took Richie's good hand in her own. "I'll never leave you, Richie, I promise."  
  
An hour later, Conner and Rachel left and Tessa stayed at Richie's side, holding his hand, and talking to him. After another hour she let go of Richie's hand and picked up the phone. She dialed the number to Duncan's hotel room from the paper she had in her pocket.  
  
"Conner?" Duncan's anxious voice answered.  
  
"It's me."  
  
"Tess? How'd it go?"  
  
Tears she had been holding back rushed forward. "He's horrible!" she sobbed.  
  
"I'll take care of Conner, he won't get away with keeping you from Richie," Duncan promised.  
  
"No, Richie's horrible. I'm in his room right now."  
  
"How'd you get in?"  
  
"I'm on the list. Duncan, he's so pale."  
  
"What's wrong with him?"  
  
Tessa listed off all of Richie's injuries. "Over six hundred stitches, Duncan, six hundred!"  
  
"Surgery?" Duncan repeated.  
  
"To fix the scars. I'm waiting for him to wake up. The nurse says it should be any minute now."  
  
"He must look horrible."  
  
"He must be so scared. Conner says he cries when he's alone. We did that to him!"  
  
"No, Tessa, don't blame yourself. I did that to him. I made you leave. When Richie wakes up tell him I'll see him soon."  
  
"But the list."  
  
"Isn't going to stop me."  
  
Twenty minutes later, Richie started to stir. He almost rolled onto his back, but the second one of his cuts hit the mattress, he stopped.  
  
"Shh, be still," Tessa whispered. "You're okay." Richie pouted, still not quite awake, but settled back onto his side. "Come on, petit, open your eyes. Let me see." She patted his good hand and for the first time noticed the chipped black nail polish. She pushed it to the back of her mind. Apologies first, reprimands later.  
  
"Mom?" Richie mumbled.  
  
It took Tessa a second to respond. "Yes, it's me. Tessa. I'm here." She decided not to call attention to Richie's slip. He'd be too embarrassed if he remembered. "It's time to wake up."  
  
"It hurts," he mumbled turning into his pillow.  
  
"I'm sure it does. The nurse will give you something to make that go away. But first I want to see your eyes. Look at me." Slowly Richie's eyes opened and met her's. "That's a boy. I missed you."  
  
"I love you," Richie answered.  
  
"Mon petit, you're hurt." Once again Tessa chose to ignore Richie's drug induced affection.  
  
"Yeah." He slowly began to wake up to a more coherent state.  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Tessa got on the phone to call the nurse's station to inform them Richie was awake and hungry. Not ten minutes later, an orderly arrived with a food tray and a nurse with a pad of some sort.  
  
"You have to sit up, now," the nurse told him. She gently took hold of one of his arms and helped him position himself in the bed. "Don't lean back, yet." She situated the pad behind him. Tessa saw it was covered in a blue gel. The nurse untied the back of Richie's robe. "This will be cold," she warned pushing him back.  
  
He hissed through his teeth as his cuts hit the gel. "What is this?"  
  
"It will keep the cuts from becoming dry and itchy," she told him. "Plus it cleans out the wounds."  
  
"Oh." Richie watched as the orderly put the try on the swivel table attached to his bed. "What's on the menu today?" he sighed.  
  
"Salisbury steak, mash potatoes, peas, cantaloupe and Jell-O," the orderly told him. "And you have to eat everything, doctor's orders."  
  
"I can't eat peas, I'm allergic," Richie told him.  
  
"No, he's not," Tessa interrupted. "And he will eat them." When she spoke Richie turned to look at her as if he hadn't noticed her before.  
  
"When'd you get here?" he asked in confusion.  
  
"I'll tell you while you eat," she answered with a smile. It wasn't that uncommon for Richie to not remember what happened right before he went to sleep or after he woke up. sedation just made his memory worse.  
  
The nurse and orderly left and Richie began to fumble with the food. Eating left-handed was not easy for him in general, but his wrist was a little swollen yet and very sore. After a few unproductive attempts, he relented and allowed Tessa to feed him after making her swear not to tell anyone about it. She helped him with what the hospital called steak promising him a rib eye when he got better. She mixed the peas with the potatoes so he wouldn't taste them as much. She spoon-fed him the Jell-O. But he insisted he could manage the cantaloupe just fine and proceeded to eat it with his fingers.  
  
All the while, she told him what she had been doing in Paris, how much she missed him, and how upset she had been by their phone conversation. She chatted and he listened. After a while the nurse came in with a shot that she injected into Richie's IV. As she cleaned the excess gel off his back, his eyes began to droop. By the time he was re-positioned on his side he was asleep.  
  
About 20 minutes later, Tessa heard familiar voices in the hall. She checked her watch and discovered that it was time for Rachel to come to replace her. After hearing how he reacted to being alone she refused to let him be awake without someone in the room with him.  
  
As the door opened and Rachel came in, Tessa got up and hugged the woman. "He's been sleeping for about a half hour and probably will for another hour or so. He'll be cranky, but if you play a card game or watch TV with him to distract him, he doesn't feel the pain as badly."  
  
Rachel nodded with a reassuring smile and gently shoved Tessa out the door. Tessa dragged her feet, wanting one last look at the boy, and then turned around only to run into Conner.  
  
"Conner!" Tessa exclaimed. "It isn't your shift, is it?"  
  
"Nope, I wanted to talk to you. I have a plan to knock some sense into Duncan. I need your help, though."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Tessa put on her best poker face as she entered the hotel room. Conner stood in the doorway behind her as she moved to get her bags. Duncan had stopped his pacing as soon as he felt the buzz of another immortal. He relaxed a little when he saw it was just Conner.  
  
"How is he?" he demanded, ignoring Tessa's obvious disapproving look she gave him after spotting the half empty Whiskey bottle on the dresser.  
  
"He's fine," Conner told him.  
  
"Tessa said he had over six hundred stitches, what happened to him?"  
  
"He's fine," Conner repeated.  
  
"Is that all you're going to tell me?"  
  
"He's not your concern anymore. You sent him to me and I'm taking care of him."  
  
"He is my concern!" Duncan insisted.  
  
"He was," Conner corrected in the same tone Duncan used with Richie when patiently proving him wrong. "Are you ready, Tessa?"  
  
For the first time, Duncan noticed what Tessa was doing. She was gathering her belongings. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm going to Conner's," she told him. "Richie will be home soon and he'll need looking after."  
  
"You can't do this." Duncan shook his head. "You can't do this. You CAN'T do this! Conner, I have to see him! I have to see for myself that he's okay!"  
  
"You're the one that wanted the clean break," Conner reminded him. "I'm not going to let him see you just to have to watch you walk away again."  
  
"Tessa!" Duncan turned to her. "You can't agree with this! You know how much I love him!"  
  
"He's right," Tessa said, also using her patiently dealing with Richie tone. "This is all for the best."  
  
With that the two turned and walked down the hall to the elevator. Duncan glared at their backs before closing the door. He would see Richie one way or another. 


	5. The End

Richie was blissfully unaware of the world around him thanks to the painkillers being pumped through his system. There was no pain, no fear, only the memories swirling though his mind. If he had had enough muscle control he would have been smiling. He didn't hear any of the commotion going on in the hall. Yells about someone having a heart attack, nurses rushing down the hall, calls for equipment and a stretcher, and someone sneaking into his room.  
  
Duncan waited until the nurses passed him to round the corner and duck into room 527. Had he not been told Richie changed his appearance, he wouldn't have given the boy in the bed a second look. But since he had been warned, he examined the peaceful face first. it was Richie. He lightly touched his cheek and when Richie didn't respond in the slightest he ran his fingers through the boy's dark hair.  
  
"You poor kid," he murmured.  
  
He took Richie's chart off the foot of his bed to find out what had happened. After that he dared a look at Richie's back. He untied the gown and opened it wide. Cuts almost completely covered the skin across his shoulders and down his back. Each one had been meticulously sewn closed with small black stitches. Even after being treated, the soft skin around the cuts was still red and swollen. He ran his fingers up Richie's ribs and felt him breathe slow, steady breaths. A car drove by and the headlights lit the room just long enough to draw Duncan's notice to the small glint of sliver coming from Richie's earring. Curious about what else the boy had changed, Duncan once again consulted Richie's chart. Rachel apparently had collected Richie's belongings, which consisted of a lip, eyebrow and nose ring, leather pants, and a dog collar. That gave Duncan a pretty good idea of what Richie had done. He stayed as long as he dared before tucking a note into Richie's left hand and sneaking back out of the room.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Conner arrived at the hospital and hour before the nurses guessed Richie would start waking up. He sat in the chair next to the bed and opened his book. Two chapters later, Richie moaned and Conner heard paper crinkle. He looked up and saw a piece of paper in Richie's hand. Because he was still mostly asleep, Richie didn't do anything to keep Conner from taking the paper and reading it.  
  
'Rich- Call me 555-6231 rm. 312 -Mac'  
  
Conner picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
"Richie?" Duncan groggily answered the other line.  
  
"Nice try, laddie," Conner told him. "Richie's going home in few weeks and you're not to see him before or after. I already told him you couldn't come." He hung up.  
  
Another almost half-hour passed before Richie was fully awake. Conner could tell the great change that had come over him since Tessa's arrival. He was more cheerful, talkative, and relaxed. It made Conner re-think his idea of calling a therapist. Richie and Conner played Gin Rummy until breakfast came. Richie fumbled with the oatmeal but refused any help. They found a movie on TV after that. Conner left when Tessa came.  
  
Tessa and Richie talked all morning. Lunch came and once again Tessa was sworn to secrecy before helping Richie eat his chicken soup and Jell-O. He drew the line at her feeding him his roll, but quietly asked her to butter it first. After lunch, Tessa decided Richie was well enough to be in trouble. She sternly, but gently, reminded him of what was expected of him. The rings Rachel had taken home were not going to be returned and the ones he still had in were to be removed. Richie obediently moved to take them out. After a few unsuccessful attempts Tessa removed them for him. "I kinda like that one," he smiled when she reached for the cuff in his left ear.  
  
"No piercings." She wouldn't back down. Once the offending jewelry was removed, she lifted the left sleeve of his gown revealing the sword and lightning tattoo.  
  
Richie grinned nervously. "Get it?"  
  
Tessa refused to smile. "Yes, I get it, and it attacks too much of the wrong attention. I want it gone."  
  
"Can I keep the others?" Richie asked hopefully.  
  
"Others?" Tessa repeated. "What others?"  
  
"I've got one right here," he pointed at his cast. "It's a really cool cross. And one back here; you can probably still see it." He leaned over a bit and Tessa could see the small Celtic knot just above his boxers. "That one's my favorite. I might get a real one of that some day."  
  
"What do you mean a real one? These aren't real?"  
  
"No, they're henna. I didn't wanna do anything permanent before I knew if I really liked it or not."  
  
"So they will come off?" Tessa was relieved, she had been expecting more scars to fix after the tattoos were removed.  
  
"Yeah, eventually."  
  
"Then we'll talk about that one later. This one," she tapped his shoulder. "Must go. Agreed?"  
  
Richie sighed. "Fine."  
  
A few minutes later, the nurse came in to prepare Richie for his daily treatment. They were doing all they could to reduce the scars before he even healed. He got daily steroid shots and exams to see how it was working. They also placed a gel made out of vitamin E on the scar tissue to help reduce the scarring; it was known to work wonders. Tessa told Richie that Rachel would be there when he got back before leaving the nurse to her duty.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
For two weeks, Conner, Rachel, and Tessa took turns staying with Richie. They would play cards and board games, watch movies and talk. The night before Richie was to go home, Conner decided to stay the night with Richie. The hospital had slowly been getting Richie used to a new pain killer, which for some odd reason seemed to fill the boy with energy, so at two in the morning Richie was sitting cross legged in his bed chatting away and Conner was praying for the sedative that was on the way as soon as the doctor cleared it. Suddenly a buzz crept through Conner's skull. His posture shifted and Richie stopped rambling.  
  
"An immortal?" he asked.  
  
Conner nodded. "Listen to me, Richie, if the immortal comes in here, I want you to do exactly as I tell you, understand?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I don't want them to see your face. You're safer if they don't know what you look like. So you look directly at me and nowhere else." Conner finished just as the door opened. Richie looked directly at Conner waiting to see what he was to do next. "What are you doing here?" Conner asked the immortal. "Never mind. Leave, you have no business here."  
  
"What are you doing here?" a familiar voice asked.  
  
At the sound of his voice Richie's eyes lit up. "Mac!" he tried to turn to face him, but Conner grabbed his jaw and Richie was forced to keep his focus on him. "Bu he a-e-dy nu muh fashe," Richie slurred in protest through puckered lips.  
  
Conner ignored him. "You're not supposed to be here, Duncan."  
  
"What is he doing up right now?" Duncan demanded ignoring Conner's reminder. "He should be resting."  
  
"His new medicine has a side-effect," Conner answered. "Leave."  
  
"Buh." Richie cut in. Conner gave him a no-nonsense look before turning his attention to Duncan.  
  
"If we have anything to discuss, we won't do it here."  
  
"Conner, just give me five minutes," Duncan asked, stepping around the bed. Richie's eyes darted as far right as they could to catch a glimpse. Conner clamped his free hand over his eyes.  
  
"Heh!"  
  
"Shh!"  
  
"Conner, you don't have to cut him off from the world," Duncan sighed. "He's not a child."  
  
"Yuh!"  
  
"Shh," Conner snapped giving Richie's jaw a squeeze. "Duncan, outside."  
  
"I'll see you, Rich." Duncan reached down to pat Richie's foot. As soon as his hand made contact, Richie jerked away.  
  
"Out," Conner repeated. As soon as Duncan was gone he let Richie go.  
  
"Conner!" Richie whined. "What the hell was that all about?"  
  
"Listen to me, Richie," Conner said patiently. "I'll explain this later. I promise there's a reason for this, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Richie intoned.  
  
"Alright, I'll be back in a bit. Take whatever the nurse gives you."  
  
"You sure you don't want to approve it first?" Richie grumbled.  
  
"There's a reason, Richie. Just take it, okay?"  
  
"Fine. And Conner?"  
  
"Yeah, Rich?"  
  
"When Mac touched me. Can you tell him it wasn't him? It just. it hurt. Can you tell him?"  
  
Conner gave him a reassuring smile. "He didn't know. I'll tell him. And tell the nurse that they still hurt. She can give them a look to make sure everything is okay."  
  
"Sure. Thanks, Conner."  
  
"That's what I'm here for." He cuffed him in the chin.  
  
. . . . . .  
  
The next evening, Richie was settled into his bed at Conner's.  
  
"Do you need anything?" Tessa asked smoothing his hair.  
  
"I'm good. Just a little tired."  
  
"Then get some sleep. If you need anything, I'm just right across the hall."  
  
After much arguing, it was agreed that Conner would take the couch, Tessa would take his room, and Richie would have his own room. Usually Richie would be the one on the couch, but he was still sore so neither Conner nor Tessa would let him. Conner's chivalry would not allow him to let Tessa sleep on the couch and he insisted that she take his room. Only when he reminded her that she would be able to hear Richie better if he needed anything did she agree.  
  
"Night, Tessa."  
  
"Night, petit."  
  
After a few days, Richie was allowed to wonder the apartment at will but Tessa still watched him like a hawk. His ankles had been giving him problems. Richie had to go to the hospital every other day for the steroid shots and the doctors were very pleased with the results. It looked like very little skin grafting would be required.  
  
Once he had been home for a week, Richie insisted on getting that rib eye Tessa had promised him. So Conner, Tessa and Richie met Rachel at Outback Steakhouse for a nice dinner. The next day, Richie insisted that he wanted to be alone and begged everyone to leave the apartment for one day. Rachel busied herself at work and Conner took Tessa to a matinee showing of Phantom of the Opera then dinner. Before they left they made Richie swear that if he had a problem he would call and if he started to hurt he would take a pill.  
  
"Come on, I'm practically healed," Richie smiled as he held his arms wide and grinning. "Just one day, that's all I ask."  
  
Finally, Conner and Tessa left, yelling phone numbers over their shoulders as Richie closed and locked the door. First thing he did was to call for a pizza--extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, peppers, olives, and garlic. his favorite. He looked through Conner's movies, didn't find anything, then started channel surfing. He settled on MTV. Forty five minutes to an hour later there was a knock at the door. Richie grabbed the cash Conner left him off the counter and opened the door.  
  
"Mac!"  
  
"It's paid for," Duncan said handing Richie his pizza. "I met the pizza guy downstairs."  
  
"Thanks," Richie said awkwardly. He balanced the pizza like a waiter's tray on his left hand. "What are you doing here?" he asked after a minute.  
  
"I came to see you. Can I come in?"  
  
"I'm not supposed to see you," he mumbled. "I'll get in trouble." Conner had been lecturing him every day. Over the course of the week and half that he had been home, Duncan's unannounced visits and calls had prompted Conner to restrict Richie from answering the phone or door.  
  
"Since when do you do as you're told?" Duncan smiled.  
  
"Since I got sick of being left," Richie shot back bitterly. He was torn between being happy to see Duncan, worried about getting in trouble, and angry about being in New York in the first place.  
  
"Can I come in?" Duncan asked.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"Richie, you won't get in trouble. We won't break any rules."  
  
"Funny, I think this might go against the 'You're not allowed to see Duncan' rule."  
  
"Then we'll go with what Conner told me. I can't see you if I plan on leaving. I don't plan on leaving. so this is okay," Duncan offered.  
  
"You're not leaving?" Richie asked, his interest peaked.  
  
"No," Duncan told him. "So do you think I can come in? It's not good for you to been standing in the open doorway anyway. You might catch a cold."  
  
Richie thought about it. "I guess." He stepped aside and Duncan moved past him into the apartment. Richie went into the kitchen. "Want some?" he offered as he put the pizza on the table.  
  
"Is that a Richie special?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Sure. Can I get you a drink?" Duncan offered going to the refrigerator as Richie got plates. "A soda maybe?"  
  
"Water," Richie answered.  
  
They sat at the table, the pizza between them, and ate in silence. Richie had long since remastered feeding himself and had no problems. Which he was grateful for, because the last two times he had been with Duncan he had been completely humiliated, either sobbing or sitting in a hospital bed with him eyes covered like a child in a racy movie.  
  
"So how are you feeling?" Duncan asked, breaking the silence.  
  
"Fine," Richie answered. "I get my cast off in two days and then after that there's a little surgery and then I'm done."  
  
"Richie, who did this to you?"  
  
Richie concentrated on sauce smudges on his plate. "I don't know." Richie had kept the secret of just who had beaten him, just like the gang leader had said. Just to enforce the point, Buzzbi had dropped in on Richie one day and threatened Tessa as well as himself if he told anyone.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure!" Richie snapped.  
  
"Okay. That's not what I'm here for anyway. I need to talk to you."  
  
"Then talk."  
  
Duncan took a deep breath. "I was wrong to leave you here. I made a rash decision. I'm sorry."  
  
"Apology accepted."  
  
"There's more. Conner made me realize what I had done. He made me realize how you felt. He told me the first night I got here that he wasn't going to let me see you if I was just going to leave again. And I had every intention of leaving. But he cut me off, completely. When I asked how you were, all he would say was 'He's fine' and I hated it. I had to know. But I couldn't find out. Conner wouldn't tell me and neither would Tessa or Rachel. All I knew was you were here and I couldn't see you. I was so mad; it wasn't fair. I kept thinking to myself 'How can Conner do this to me?' then it changed to 'How could I do this to Richie?' I love you, Richie. I thought you'd be safer away from me, that's why I left." His eyes brimmed with tears. "The entire time, all I thought about was you and Tessa. I couldn't concentrate on anything. I was worried you were mad, or hurt. or worse, getting along fine without me."  
  
"I'm fine, Mac. Conner's a great guy. I like him," Richie said.  
  
"Richie, I know you like Conner. But I want you to like me, too."  
  
"I do, Mac."  
  
"Richie, I know nothing will ever be the same. but I want you to come home. Come with me. Please?"  
  
Something crossed Richie's face. "Mac, I'm leaving. In a week, Conner and I are going to Scotland. Then after that, I'm meeting Tessa in France and I'm gonna stay with her. I guess I figured you knew."  
  
"No," Duncan answered, his voice breaking. He had poured his heart out to Richie only to have it stomped on. "I didn't know you were going anywhere."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault," he assured him. "I just wanted to be the one to take you to Scotland. I was going to show you were I was born, take you to meet my parents. well, they're dead, but their graves."  
  
"I'm sure Conner will take me," Richie tried to make Duncan feel better. "I'll make sure he does," he added when a tear escaped Duncan's control. "Mac." tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry, just. I don't know what to do!"  
  
"No, Rich, don't apologize. You're not doing anything wrong. I just never thought someone else would. it's my own fault." Duncan gave Richie a smile. "Listen, think about it. If you ever change your mind, give me a call. I don't care if it's eighty years from now, I'd love to have you back home with me."  
  
"Okay," Richie answered. "But hey, we have a week until I leave. There's no reason for Conner to say I can't see you now."  
  
"Sure thing, tough guy. Here." Duncan took a pen and wrote on a napkin. "This is my hotel, room number, and phone number. Call me and keep me posted. I want to hear how everything turns out, okay?"  
  
Richie took the napkin. "Okay." Duncan ruffled his hair and left. Richie stayed at the table and didn't move. He was still there when Conner and Tessa came home.  
  
"Richie?" Conner called running into the kitchen. "The door was unlocked, is everything okay?"  
  
"Don't be mad," Richie told him.  
  
"Why would I be mad?"  
  
"Mac came over."  
  
. . . . . .  
  
Richie's cast came off as scheduled and he went in for surgery with the promise of no one being able to tell what had happened. By the time they were done only one scar remained noticeable, just above his left hip. Conner had mentioned that Richie should pick one out to keep reminding him of what he had done. That one received minimal treatment. It was still visible, but you couldn't tell it had come from a bullwhip.  
  
Richie woke up very early the morning before his trip to Scotland. What Duncan had said wouldn't leave him head. He had even dreamed about it during his surgery. He had made his decision. He got dressed and snuck past Conner who was asleep on the couch and out the door. It took a few tries, but he finally got a taxi to stop for him. He gave the cabby Duncan's hotel address.  
  
Duncan jerked awake when his phone rang.  
  
"MacLeod," he answered.  
  
"Can I come up?"  
  
"Richie? Where are you?"  
  
"The lobby, can I come up?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Five minutes later, Richie was sitting on the foot of the bed while Duncan ordered room service.  
  
"Is everything okay?" Duncan asked as he hung up the phone.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"Okay." Duncan sat next to Richie on the bed.  
  
"This might get a little weird, why don't we wait for the food?" Richie offered.  
  
"Sure."  
  
Richie showed Duncan his scar and blemish free back, wrist, and ankles until the food came. They ate breakfast for a while but then Duncan couldn't take it any longer.  
  
"What's up?" he asked.  
  
"I thought about what you said. You told me how you felt. so I guess it's my turn."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Richie swallowed. "As far as I'm concerned the worst thing anyone could do to me is leave. you did that. And what's worse is you made Tessa leave, too. Neither of us wanted to, but you wouldn't listen. That's not fair."  
  
"No, it wasn't."  
  
"You really screwed me over, you know," Richie continued. "For a month, all I did was try to figure out what I did wrong. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. It drove me insane. I couldn't come up with anything. Then I guess Conner had enough; he bribed me to go out. He promised me I could call Tessa. The whole time I was out, I thought of ways to beg Tessa to come get me. But it didn't work." The tears came again. "I tried to tell myself I didn't care anymore. I tried to move on. And this is what I did to myself. I'm not blaming you. but I did everything I could think of that you guys wouldn't let me do. And I'm really sorry, Mac. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn't."  
  
"Rich."  
  
"And then. then when I made the worse decision of my life. God, that stupid gang. the whole time they were whipping me all, I could think about was how disappointed you guys would be if you ever found out. Tessa has yet to really yell at me, you know, just really let me have it. And then you came and started talking about going home. once Tessa got here, New York became home. See, I learned a long time ago that home wasn't where you lived, it wasn't a building, it was who you were with. You guys are home. But see; now I'm lost. 'Cause I'm home with Tessa, but it's not the same."  
  
"Then go home, Richie," Duncan told him.  
  
"Only if you come, too," Richie said. "I came to ask you to come home. Please?"  
  
"Richie," Duncan smiled. "Of course." Richie smiled back. "Does Conner know you're here?"  
  
Richie rolled his eyes. "No."  
  
Duncan took Richie back to Conner's to explain what had happened. Conner had seen Richie leave and had told Tessa but both feigned worry when the boy arrived. The four talked about what they were going to do. Duncan thought it was important for Richie to go to Scotland and offered to meet them in Paris when they were done. Conner said he had a better idea and gave Duncan his plane ticket and told him to take Richie instead.  
  
"I can add it to my list of places I got mugged," Richie joked with a smile. "New York didn't work out."  
  
After much pressing, Richie told everyone everything that he had done. He studied the floor as he told them about the parties, the drugs, the drinking and the gang.  
  
"That's who whipped you?" Duncan asked.  
  
"No!" Richie insisted looking up quickly. "I didn't say that!"  
  
"Oh, yes you did," he insisted. "You said it in the hotel room."  
  
"That's not what I meant," Richie said weakly.  
  
It took nearly another hour to drag the truth out of Richie. As soon as they did, the first thing Conner and Duncan did was to jump for the phone.  
  
"No!" Richie yelled, jerking the phone form their hands as they fought over who was going to call. "They'll kill me! They'll kill Tessa!"  
  
"Richie," Duncan said reasonably. "Where are you going tomorrow?"  
  
"Scotland, if you tell anyone."  
  
"And Tessa's going to France. All we have to do is give a statement, press charges, identify them and leave."  
  
"What about trial?"  
  
"I'll fix that for you," Conner assured him. "You just set the wheels in motion. I'm sure we can exaggerate the threats enough to submit a video testimony."  
  
Finally, Richie relented and let them call. As it was, they had to postpone Scotland for a week to identify the gang members that had been present at the whipping, but Richie insisted that Tessa leave as scheduled. Richie was allowed to submit a video testimony and soon he was on a plane to Scotland. He sat happily in his first class seat staring out the window.  
  
A few hours into the flight, Duncan leaned over to him. "By the way. you're grounded."  
  
Richie smiled despite himself. "I never thought I'd be so happy to hear you say that." 'Besides,' he thought to himself. 'How bad can being grounded in Scotland be?' 


End file.
